Epitaph

• Abbie McPartland, Grade 7, Mornington Secondary College
• Short Story
• 2014

Excellence Award in the 'The Text Generation 2014' competition

Melanie wandered along the balcony. The marble floor echoed with every tap of her feet, emphasising how alone she was in the memorial. The granite walls were etched with names- names that Mel felt were too many. So much was owed to them. She had been to a war memorial before, of course, but never one built for the sole purpose of a war that she had started. She felt familiar tears spring to her green eyes. Mel took flower after flower out of the plastic bag on her arm, sticking a range of pansies, roses and daisies beside each name, and before long, every name from Aanley to Zypman had a blossom perched in pride of place beside it. When she got to the end of the corridor, she found a heavy wooden door. The surface was covered with elaborate carvings, of dragons and stars, and the handles were polished brass. Melanie took a breath and opened the door. It was heavy and stiff, but Mel leaned against it and pushed with all her might. She came out in a high ceilinged chamber that contained tables of candles, gently flickering in the dim room. There were no windows, presumably to keep the flames burning. The most remarkable thing about the stone room, however, were the eight foot murals that covered each wall of the hexagonal chamber. Her heart jumped into her mouth when she saw who they depicted. There they all stood larger than life, gazing serenely upon her. There was Buzz, dear Buzz in his ratty old jeans and sweater, but he held a large sword in his hand, which was made of pure silver and inlaid with many precious jewels. Underneath his picture, the word ‘Bravery’ was inscribed in gold leaf. The picture next to him was of his sister Kiera. Her long black hair was twisted into a bun and she held a set of delicate crystal scales in one dainty hand. ‘Justice’ was inscribed below, and Melanie had to swallow fiercely to rid herself of the suffocating lump in her throat. Next was Sharni. Unlike the others, she wasn’t wearing her usual clothes and was instead dressed in a white uniform, with a red cross on the pocket. Melanie smiled. Sharni would have hated it, but the message it left was undoubtedly special. ‘Compassion’, Mel read, tracing the word with her fingers. Tom was located next to her, and his portrait was no less handsome than he had been. His ginger hair was glossy, even in the picture. He had no defining object, but the lone word of Honesty said more than it needed to. Lily held a stack of books in her portrait, and the label proclaimed ‘Intelligence’. Mel didn’t need to even look at the last wall. Forgiveness was and always would be Chris’ virtue. She hoped he still had his kind heart.
“I’m sorry, Chris,”
She then took the last six posies and laid them down, blotting tears with her sleeve.